Chances Are
by Mopargirl1
Summary: A story about caring for someone even when you know they'd be better off without you. And again I apologize I'm not good with summaries sorry. Disclaimer- I do not own the expendables, only my oc and her story no copyright infringement intended. Rated M for adult themes and subject matter.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer- I do not own the expendables. I only own my oc and her story.

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**For those who don't know the Mac I mention in the beginning of this story is my oc from my Toll Road story. I had originally intended Gunnar's story to just be a small subplot of the other story, but it took on a life of its own. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy it and I can't wait to see if you guys like it or not, so without further ado chapter one! ;-)**

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**The color of your soul.**

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Gunnar knew he shouldn't do this; he'd known it ever since the thought entered his head. He knew it as he steered his truck into one of the less desirable residential areas of the city. And still knew it as he pulled into the cul-de-sac and parked in front of the gray one story, with its heavily chipped paint. He shouldn't be here. He'd managed to stay away from her for eight months this time, it was a record really. Since that first night he'd laid eyes on her close to four years ago, he'd done this dance with her. He'd stayed away from her, for so many different reasons this time. But after everything that had happened with Mac, Gunnar had wondered how he'd feel if he was in Tolls position. So here he was. Gunnar had always kept her existence a secret, never talking about her. No one knew she existed: no one. Hell, they probably wouldn't believe him if he told them. Besides, what did he have to tell?

She was one out of the many young women he'd met in this scenario through the years. But most of them faded in his memory till they were forgotten. Grace was the one out of the many that had stayed with him. She had been young barely twenty-four and she'd been afraid of him. And so new to her profession, she didn't know how to mask or hide what she felt.

For some reason the first night he'd been with her, the look on her face had affected him different from what he would have expected. Something about her hesitance had tugged at a long buried thread of humanity. It shouldn't have mattered that she was uncertain, it was a business transaction, but still as he stood across the room from her, watching as she tried to get a hold of herself, he felt the need to reassure her. She'd reminded him of a rabbit caught in a snare really. He'd approached her slowly making sure she understood his intent. He wasn't letting her walk out of the room, but he didn't want her to fear him either. When he reached her he lowered his head, holding her startlingly blue eyes.

It had taken a moment for her to kiss him back, but when she did things had turned heated very quickly. He'd been sure that night to be careful with her. When he'd left her the next morning, she wasn't awake. He'd left a stack of cash on her nightstand, but it hadn't felt right. Most women in her profession, their response was rehearsed, they knew when to gasp and moan. How to touch and what to say and do. And frequently the woman herself got very little pleasure.

But Grace was different, he'd been with enough women to know her response wasn't rehearsed. She had taken great enjoyment in what he did to her. He could see it in her eyes and feel it in the way she moved against him. The whole experience had caught him off guard. He'd left on a mission a few days later and didn't come back for two months. When he got back, he searched her out curious to see how she was. And that had started this between them.

He was intrigued by her and it kept him coming back. He wanted to know everything about her. And they developed a friendship of sorts. The issue of her life style began to bother him more and more. They'd never talked about it but then finally after months, one night he'd asked. Listening to her story had angered him. She really hadn't had a choice at all. From that moment on things really changed. Gunnar had had to start distancing himself, he couldn't wrap his mind around her being with other men. What happened between them wasn't just sex any longer it had become something more. And he began to wonder if she responded the same to other men, the idea that she might infuriated him. And knowing other men touched her made him crazy.

Then one particular time he'd gotten back from a mission a few days early. He never told her what he did only that he was going to be gone and when he might be back and he didn't always do that either. He decided to surprise her, but she hadn't been alone. He didn't knock on the door or announce his presence. Unreasonably enraged and jealous, he left quietly, even though it nearly killed him. What he wanted to do was storm into the house and snap the bastard's neck. Instead, he'd waited just down the street watching for the man to leave. After Gunnar finished with the guy Gunnar was certain his little rabbit had one less caller. He never brought up that he'd been there that night. But in the following months he had maintained a careful distance, after all he knew who and what she was. Allowing himself to become enraged and jealous in this situation was stupid.

Several months later when she'd told Gunnar, she tried to get out, but her boss wouldn't let her, Gunnar paid the man a visit. Really, that she was out of the profession should have made him happy but it didn't. It bothered him. Now that she wasn't a prostitute any longer where did that leave them.

Then he started using again, thinking in the beginning he could handle it. That was one of the problems with being a junkie. Thinking you can handle the drugs. When in reality the drugs handled you. When he first started using he still went to see her and brushed off her curious looks and the concern he'd seen reflected in her eyes. But as things got increasingly out of control he'd stopped searching her out. He couldn't help but be thankful he'd been aware enough of his own actions to hide it from Grace. He didn't want her to see him like that.

Grace was just crawling into bed that night when she heard the knock on the door. It was late near eleven and all she wanted to do was sleep. Between her two jobs and taking night classes most days she had zero energy by the time she finally got home. Still, the late night visitor made her traitorous heart begin to pick up tempo. And part of her began to hope. Just the idea that it could be him sent the hurt and confusion, she'd felt over his absence away. She hadn't seen him in so long.

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**And thanks for the encouraging me to write about Gunnar! ;) I'm blaming this temporary spark of insanity on you! And subsequently everything that follows! And you know who you are.. Haha!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Ok, so firstly, I must say I have never attempted to write Gunnar not really before now and I'm not certain I am getting him right. So I will apologize now. I really hope I don't murder his character. And if I am someone please tell me..**

**And thanks so much for the reviews and favs and follows! **

**And I have a special apology for the one who encouraged me to write Gunnar! Sorry it took so long to update!**

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**All the perfect moments are wrong.**

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Grace's heart continued to pick up tempo as she hurried across her bedroom and down the hall toward the front of the house. Just the prospect that it could be Gunnar on the other side of her door rattled her emotions. It had been so long since she'd seen him last that she really had no reason to hope. But stupidly, she did. Earlier today if anyone had mentioned him to her (not that they would, the two people she'd come to count as friends in this new life knew nothing of him) she was sure she would have filled their ears with a list of choice explicates explaining exactly what she thought of his long absence. And very colorfully and nonchalantly explained she didn't ever care to see him again. But she knew it was a lie, a buffer to hold the hurt his silence caused her at bay.

She'd only seen him once in the last year and that was eight months ago. Before that he'd disappeared for five months. And that time she had worried, he had been acting off even for him and she'd begun to think he was using drugs. Shed long suspected he had a history, not that he'd ever told her, but she'd known people that struggled with addiction. An uncle, along with a few cousins and some kids she'd grown up with and several other people from the small secluded southern town she grew up in. The addict bore the scars long after the track marks faded or the pill bottles were empty. Gunnar's tells weren't some of the worst she'd seen. He'd didn't grind his jaw incessantly, he still had all his teeth and none were rotten or yellow and he didn't display any of the other obvious quirks. He was fortunate, but still it was there if you looked close enough, the glassy distant look he'd get in his eyes. The madman look as she dubbed it secretly. You could see it in his mannerisms also, small ticks or quirks not clearly visible unless you spent time with him. He was also paranoid to an extent.

But a year ago, it had gotten worse. The glassy look had become vacant, his paranoia worsened. The erratic behavior came, the poor personal hygiene. The nasty breath and sweating. He'd displayed all of these and more. Then she'd finally seen the tracks high up on his arm on the inside of his right bicep, hidden. She'd wondered if it was her, someone else or himself, he tried to hide the evidence from. She wanted to yell at him but didn't. She had been afraid, not that he'd hurt her never that, but that if she confronted him it would make it worse. Confrontation generally did unless the addict was ready to admit the problem. And even if the person was aware of the problem, it didn't mean they were ready to deal with it. So she'd let him go. Deciding only after he'd left, she was going to have to confront him when next he came to see her.

But that wait had been a long one, five months. When he finally came back the track marks were replaced with a new scar on his chest close to his heart. She knew it was a bullet wound, one she knew could have killed him. Growing up as she had, dirt poor, in the deep south in a family steeped in tradition, she'd learned something's. One of those traditions was hunting, the men folk had hunted for survival and sport. Dressing deer and other animals had been a large part of her life. She'd learned the skill at the hand of her ma known to others as Faith and along side of her older sister Hope. Her father and her older brother Samson killed the game. So shed known instantly when she'd seen the scar, that whatever he'd been shot with was a high caliber round and as close to his heart as it was he was lucky to be alive.

The scar had raised so many questions inside her, ones that had began to pile up shortly after meeting him. Like, who he really was? And now, who would want him dead? It was obvious to anyone looking at him, he was a dangerous man. That night it had dawned on her he was also a man who could possibly have enemies. Even so he was definitely not the type that an intelligent person would tangle with.

The moment she'd first seen him that night long ago, she sensed and seen that about him but he'd disarmed her. He was impossibly tall and frightening, his piercing slightly feral gaze and crescent shaped scar on his cheek, only added to the air of menace about him. She had stood there, heart pounding, erratically, worrying over what this rough, unkept man might do to her. Imaging all sorts of vial indignities. But as they stood on opposite sides of the room holding each other's gaze he changed. His eyes and visage softened as if he hadn't wanted her to fear him. She remembered vividly the way he'd looked at her when he'd approached her. She also remembered how startlingly gentle he'd been when he kissed her that night. It wasn't just his kiss that surprised her it was the way he'd touched her. Even though his attentions had a rough edge to them hed been considerate of her comfort and she still remembered thinking he'd held part of himself back. Not wanting to frighten her. And she'd responded to him. She had found in the short time she'd been in this profession the men she'd encountered really didn't spare a thought for her comfort. Physical or otherwise. But he was different.

Forcing her mind from her present thoughts, she focused on who was on the other side of her door. In her heart, she wanted it to be him, hoped it was him. Even though she knew she shouldn't. She should be angry and she had been till now.

As Gunnar stood on the doorstep waiting he questioned the intelligence of coming here even more. It seemed to be taking her way longer to answer the door than it should and he knew she was home, her car was parked in the driveway. Suddenly, he wondered if she was alone. It was altogether possible that in the eight months since he'd seen her shed found someone. Really, he told himself, he should just leave. Nothing good would come from this.

Grace hurried into the living room and to the window. She had never had any problems since she'd moved into this house, but she was always careful to heed Gunnar's warning about the neighborhood. She knew he'd been unimpressed with her choice of place to live. Truthfully, she hadn't planned on living here long, this place was only ever supposed to be a stepping stone. But she'd been so frantic to get away from her pimp she hadn't been realistic. There was only so far a small backwoods town girl with no education above a high school diploma could get. Even working two jobs she couldn't afford anything else. She knew if she'd asked him, he would have helped her, but she'd never allowed herself. She needed to stand on her own two feet and she already owed him so much.

When she reached the front window, she moved the curtain aside slightly. Even in the deep shadows cast over the doorstep by the trees that grew in front of her house, she recognized his tall shadowed figure and her heart sped up more. It suddenly didn't matter that she had been angry and confused by his actions. He was here...

Gunnar knew he should leave. If she wasn't alone if there was a man it was nothing more than what he should expect. The very possibility made his fists clench in anger, but really, what right did he have to expect her to stay single. He'd never given her more than an occasional visit and a few hours in bed. Besides, he reminded himself, it wasn't like there hadn't been other women for him either. Amber and one or two others in the last eight months. They'd only ever been distractions for him though. Grace was different. He'd never allowed himself to offer more than sex because he couldn't give her more than that. But unlike with the others, he sometimes wanted to. And eventually he knew it would happen someone would come along who didn't care who she'd been or what she'd done. That was part of the reason he'd stayed away so long this time. She deserved more than a quick tumble.

The sound of the deadbolt turning pulled him from his thoughts. The yard light came on and the door opened. His gaze met hers and all he could do was look at her. There was no cheerful greetings, to anyone standing and watching the exchange they'd have seemed as near strangers. The only things that gave way to any familiarity between them was a recognition in both their eyes. Her eyes softening and his sharpening and a subtle softening around her lips.

Grace had no idea what to say after she opened the door, his piercing glacial blue gaze left her inarticulate and immobile. She'd forgotten how impossibly large he was and how unnerving it could be to stand in under his direct gaze. She'd never really known what footing they had, or what name to put this thing between them. Those things coupled with how keenly his absence had angered and hurt her this time left her with had no idea how to react to him.

Gathering her wits as best she could, she stepped back from the doorway and waited for him to step inside. There were so many different questions filling her head, she couldn't think. She wanted to know where he'd been? Why he hadn't come to see her in eight months? She wanted to know why all she had to do was look at him and all the hurt and uncertainty fled? But mostly she wanted to know why that night eight months ago, he'd left her without saying a word? He'd only done that to her once before. The first night she'd been with me.

Gunnar stepped across the threshold after a moment, then he turned from her and shut the door softly. Grace's gaze followed his movements her eyes traveling over him as he shut the door, then as he slowly turned toward her again. Grace still had no idea what to say to him. Finding herself still stuck by the directness of his pale gaze, she felt completely unnerved. Standing there holding his gaze, she knew he wouldn't be the first to speak and make this less awkward.

Determined not to become completely flustered she asked "Are you hungry?" Simply because it was the first thing that came to mind and she couldn't handle standing there under his heavy regard. Before he'd disappeared on her a year ago, she'd thought they shared an easy camaraderie, even if she had never known exactly what their footing was. Or what label he'd put to her if any. But when he came back eight months ago, he'd changed. Where before he'd always seemed at home in her presence, he appeared less easy. Awkward almost.

The corner of Gunnar's mouth twitched slightly despite his unease with the current situation. He liked her thick southern drawl he always had, it wasn't what one would expect when you looked at her. She had an air of shyness and innocence about her despite her profession and the voice didn't go with it, that smooth raspy drawl, of hers was a bedroom voice. Shaking off the thoughts of her accent he said, "You don't need to cook me anything, Grace." His own soft inflection faintly accenting his deep voice.

"It's ok. Really. I have leftovers in the fridge." She didn't wait for a reply just turned and walked toward the kitchen. And Gunnar followed.

Gunnar stood in the kitchen doorway, his shoulder leaning against the door frame, his thick arms folded over his broad chest and he watched her. This moment struck him as odd. It wasn't that Grace hadn't fed him before. It was something she'd done often. And admittedly it was something he'd liked the feel of. But tonight it was different.

Grace cast a weary glance over her shoulder in his direction. Aware of the fact his eyes stalked her every move and the knowledge was unnerving. Growing frustrated she offered, "you can sit, Gunnar." Relieved when he moved away from the door casing and walked toward the table.

Before he sat down, he noted the textbooks lying on the kitchen table beside her laptop and asked, curiously. "Are you taking classes?" Reading the spine of one of them as he sat. Anatomy and Physiology 1, his gaze shifting to next as he took a seat and she answered "um, yea, I just started classes a few weeks ago." He read the next spine before he commented, Mathematics for Health Sciences. "Nursing?"

"Yes." She answered as she pulled a plate from the cupboard. Noting the surprised note in his voice. She glanced over her shoulder again to find his gaze on the textbooks.

"That would be good." Gunnar said as he got comfortable in his chair and it was for her, but he wasn't certain how it made him feel.

"It is, I don't necessarily want to work as a nurse. But it gives me lots of other options and I'll always be able to find a job." She said as she busied herself getting him food.

This shouldn't really surprise him, but in some ways it did. She was young and smart. And it would make her life easier. Trying to better herself and her life was the logical choice, but at that moment it only made him question why he'd come here, again.

His lack of reply made the uneasiness she felt grow. He didn't always have much to say and it generally didn't bother her, but tonight with all the question she had and his long absence it made her antsy so she pushed the conversation on. "Have you been away?"

"Some." Really that answer is what she should expect. He never gave her details, but this time she wanted them and felt deep down he owed her them. As much as his one word reply aggravated her, she knew it was all she'd get. She'd never pushed, she always knew somehow he wouldn't tell her anything he didn't think she needed to know. So she saved the herself the certain aggravation of unanswered questions.

When he made no further comment she started talking about school as she pulled the warmed up, half eaten super burrito from the microwave. Then walked closer and placed it on the table in front of him along with a fork, leaving him just long enough to get them each a drink then she returned sitting down across the table from him.

For the next Twenty minutes or so the conversation consisted of her schooling, he appeared genuinely interested. But once he'd eaten and the topic of school had run out the awkwardness came back. He was never one to ask how have you been? Or any of those other normal questions. But somehow he'd still managed to learn about everything there was to know about her. Her family history, where she'd grown up. He also knew what events had led her to be in that room with him that night years ago and she knew virtually nothing about him. Besides, he'd been born in Sweden and came to the states in his early twenties. That he had no family and really that was about it. Well, for big things he'd told her anyway. There were the other things she discovered on her own and observed about him. Or picked up in general conversations. Really, she supposed she knew about all she needed to know, he was a good man, despite what his outward appearance may imply. That was the reason she hadn't pried. He'd always been good to her and in the end he had done way more than most men would have to help a young whore fix her life. Far more than her own family would have done. She'd paid her security deposit on this house from her meager savings, but he was the one that had made it possible.

Gunnar sat in his chair watching her, her bright gaze fixed on him, searching his face as if looking for answers to a question. It was well past time to leave and he knew it. He continued to sit there, ignoring the knowledge he should leave and studied her. His eyes traveling over her tussled dark hair, then lower to her sleepy blue eyes. She looked anxious, like she was uncertain what to do. His gaze wandered lower still settling on her lips for moment. "I should go." He said, his voice hushed and matter of fact.

"Why?" Grace asked from across the table,her posture growing ridged. She didn't want him to go, then she added, "I haven't seen you in months."

He didn't know what to say to her. The apprehensive look that entered her eyes made him feel horrible and at the same time made him want to... What? He didn't know. Actually, that wasn't true, he knew what he wanted to do.

His eyes left hers and dropped to the table between them, his gaze resting on her books and he found himself wondering what shed do if he did what he wanted to do. Just stood and walked toward her and kissed her. The answer was simple. She'd wrap her slender arms around his shoulders and he could lift her up guide her long legs around his waist and carry her to the couch or her bedroom. He could brace her against the wall or any other surface he could find. And she'd let him. She'd encourage him. But it wasn't right. Just like coming here wasn't right.

When the lines had changed and she was no longer a prostitute they'd continued with the sexual side of whatever it was between them. Be it right or wrong, it continued. The sex just didn't involve payment for services rendered any longer or so he'd thought. He wasn't a man given to over thinking his actions, he usually just did whatever felt right. But once the question of why they still carried on as they had before entered his head it began to bother him. Especially, when he began to wonder if she allowed the sexual side of things to continue in some misguided belief she owed him something. And the conscious, he didn't know he still possessed started visiting him. It didn't just tell him that if she still slept with him for payment, it was wrong; it told it was just wrong.

The drugs had drowned it out, for a time and then he'd made the decision to stay away. But that last night he'd come to her he'd seen the turmoil going on inside her, the unspoken questions, the concern and instead of keeping the visit platonic they'd ended up in bed. They always did, even though it wasn't the entire basis of their relationship, it was after all what had brought them together and the physical attraction that existed between them remained part of it.

He'd done something that night he'd only ever done to her once before. He left her as she slept. No explanation. No goodbye. He'd just left her. And here he was tonight, back in her house. He hadn't offered an apology and she hadn't asked for one. Nor had she asked any of the hundreds of questions he could tell she wanted to. The only question she'd asked was why? And he wasn't answering that one either. As always she let him give what he wanted. And like always, he wouldn't offer anything.

Grace waited for him to say something, but he didn't. Ignoring the rush of irritation his lack of response made her feel. She watched him for a moment. She 'didn't want him to leave despite the tension between them, she was glad he was here. Glancing up at the small round clock that hung over the doorway to the living room, the hour was late and tomorrow she'd regret the lack of sleep. But it didn't matter.

Gunnar watched her turn her tired, weary eyes toward the clock over the door and his gaze followed hers. It was past midnight now and it occurred to him she probably had places to be tomorrow morning. "I'll go." He said, rising from his seat at the table a minute later, he tried not to look at her. That faint voice of conscious telling him it was best to just go. He'd seen her now and he knew she was alright.

Grace followed him to the door, she didn't want him to go, she had no way of knowing when she'd see him again. That idea that it may be months before he came back made her afraid. But his odd behavior made her uncertain what to do or say. What he wanted from her. As he opened the door, she found the words coming out of her mouth, "you could stay." Her accented voice soft and hesitant.

Gunnar's hand tightened around the doorknob at her offer. His heartbeat sped up and he couldn't move. She was offering herself to him again. She always did. Regardless of the reasons it was made, it was an offer, part of him knew he wouldn't turn down. Even though he knew he should. He stood there a moment caught between doing what he knew he should and what he wanted.

He stood immobile so long Grace began to worry then his hand left the doorknob, he reached up turning the deadbolt, turned slowly and looked down at her. That dark, hungry look sent anticipation coursing through her body and her heart began to race. She knew this could be a mistake; she knew if he left her in the night without saying goodbye even if he did say goodbye this could be a bad idea. She may not see him for weeks or even months, but it didn't really matter. She'd always been willing to take whatever he was willing to give her.

Gunnar reached out and took her arm in his hand, his long calloused fingers wrapping around her bicep and overlapping. He tugged her closer, lowering his head at the same time, his lips claiming hers the moment her body connected with his chest.

He quickly let go of her arm and her hands slid up his broad, well muscled chest, one resting against his peck, her nails digging into the flesh under her fingers. The other sliding higher and up his neck and then slipping into the soft hair at the base of his head. One of his arms slid across the small of her back, then upward so his palm rested between her shoulder blades the other going to her hip. His fingers tightening, digging into the soft flesh of her hip as the first rush of arousal washed through him. Angling his head over hers, he forced her neck to arch as he deepened the kiss, stroking her tongue with his own. The feel of her skilled tongue tangling with his made his body tighten.

Grace shivered at the feel of his hard body pressed against hers, his lips quickly mastered hers, he gave her no quarter deepening their kiss and locking her trembling body to his. Another tremor shot through her and her fingers tightened on the back of his head. The sensations he caused inside her nearly overwhelming her, she'd been without him for so long. He knowledge that he was finally here with her again made her tremble.

Leaning into her, he forced Grace's spine to arch and her body to press tightly to his, his arm left her back, his hand sliding along the curve of her hip to the back of her thigh, his other hand doing the same, he lifted her up and she went willingly, her legs wrapping around his waist and tightening.

Perched as she was, her long legs anchored around his thick waist, she tightened her arms around his neck, pulled herself up and tightened her grip on his waist. Making it so she was the one forcing his head back. Her body, already overly warm, in anticipation of what she knew was to come. She continued to kiss him taking control of their kiss, nipping his bottom lip playfully as she felt his hands tighten where they still cupped her thighs and a vaguely animalistic sound escaped his chest. The noise causing a heady rush if carnal excitement to rush through her. She nipped at his lip again, he made that feral noise again as one of his hands left her thigh and slowly slid up her back and into her hair and cupped the back of her head. He began to move, the hand that still cupped her thigh moving upward and sliding under her tank top his rough hand slid higher, causing a shiver to dance across her sensitive skin. His hand settled around her ribs, his calloused fingers digging into her warm flesh holding her tightly as he began walking with her body wrapped around his toward the back of the house. And her bed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Whoa, I'm on a roll apparently! HaHa! This chapters a little short and a lot sappy I hope you like it! ;) **

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**So many silent sorrows **

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Gunnar lay awake long after Grace had fallen into a deep slumber, his mind refusing to quiet. He couldn't justify what had happened between them not matter how he tried. Ashamed of himself and his actions, he had to fight the compulsion to leave her. But he couldn't just walk out not again. He'd seen the worry in her eyes after they'd finished and he knew what it meant so he tightened his arms around her exhausted form and told her to sleep and that he'd be here when she woke up. And he would be he owed her that much, but he also knew it would be the last time. It had to be. He had to let her go.

That certainty made the hours tick by with agonizing slowness. And as he lay there his gaze on her sleeping form wrapped in the blankets on her bed, he wanted to break something, anything. He'd never been good at just walking away. He was too selfish for that. So last night when she'd suggested he stay he had, already knowing he wasn't coming back to her. Like always he'd selfishly taken what she offered and used her body for his own ends. And he'd continue to do that to her unless he stayed away.

He watched as she shifted in the bed, rolling onto her back, her face turning toward him, spears of moonlight created by the cracks in the blind illuminating her face. He studied her features, that innocent quality she had was always more visible when she slept. She seemed child like almost, her gently rounded cheeks and the slightly pouted bow of her lips, the crescent sweep of her long lashes against her cheek's made her appear very young. Watching her in repose like this had always made him feel protective. Right now it made him feel worse about his decision. She would be alone. Truly alone. With no one to watch out for her or protect her.

When he'd made his choices and his own father had disowned him it had bothered him, but he was a man. It was different for men or at least that's how he'd always looked at it. But to disown your daughter... He'd never understood it. After all, all shed done was get pregnant out-of-wedlock. The guy hadn't stuck around any longer than it took to woo her and get her in bed then he was gone. But her parents were old-fashioned and adhered to an old way of life. From what Grace said they had about three main rules in her house growing up, that governed everything. Honor your parents, no sex before marriage and go to church. Gunnar himself hadn't really ever prescribed to any particular faith. He could however see how religion on it's own wasn't always a bad thing, unless you went to the extreme, like Grace's parents. The other problem her family had was forgiveness. Not only had Grace slept with someone she ended up pregnant. Just the idea that they could walk away from her made him furious it always had and at the present moment its effect was still the same. They'd sent her to New Orleans with next to no money and when she'd miscarried they still withheld their help. Leaving the young, naive Grace to fend for herself. No doubt it had been a harsh life lesson for her, alone and afraid in an unknown city. She'd made the perfect target for every pimp in town.

Continuing to watch her as she slept, his body tightened and his protective instincts kicked in. Not thinking about why he shouldn't, he reached out, pealing the blankets back from her body as he moved toward her and settled between her thighs, nudging her legs apart with his knees, he settled over the top of her. His eyes taking a leisurely trip down her body, he moved hips against her, his body tightening more. She was ready for him even in sleep. He slowly moved his hips against hers a second time sliding his length, partly inside her, at the same time leaning down and kissing the corner of her mouth. She moaned softly and her hips rolled against his, he lifted himself back up and withdrew his body. Then, with agonizing slowness repeated the action, rolling his hips against her and going a little deeper and Grace's body arched again. Her eyes came open on a gasp and her sleepy confused gaze locked with his. "Gunnar," she whispered, her voice breathy, her eyes drifting to his mouth, then she lifted her head and her soft lips met his lips. Her hands wrapped around his biceps. And he returned her gentle kiss and he continued to move against her only this time sliding into her fully.

Gunnar continued to hold himself above her, his hands on the bed on either side of her chest, after she broke the kiss and settled back against the soft mattress. Watching her, her face turned to the side, her eyes tightly shut, her body moving in unison with his. The word mine whispered through his head as he watched her, it wasn't the first time that word had entered his thoughts at such a moment, but this time it affected him differently. Normally, it would hurry his actions in a need to dominate her, this time it slowed them. He didn't want her last memory of them together to be one associated with his sometimes rough handling. Regrettably, he was already afraid he'd bruised the delicate skin of her hips in their first encounter tonight. So he continued, with agonizing slowness, watching her body tremble as her hips rose to meet his and she tossed her head around on the pillow beneath it. Her small hands gripping his arms, her nails digging into his biceps and listened to the breathy noise she made. He'd never watched her quite like this and found he couldn't tear his eyes away as she found her end, her eyes locked with his, her body gripping him tightly. As the first wave of her release claimed her, it took him as well.

Grace awoke slowly a smile playing across her lips as she stretched her body, noting the soreness in her lower extremities her smile widened slightly. Gunnar. She thought as she lay there a moment longer with her eyes closed. He was rarely as gentle with her as he'd been when he'd woke her last night. The knowledge sent a shiver down her spine. She bit her bottom lip and smiled fully as she opened her eyes and looked for him. Setting up quickly when he wasn't in the bed beside her, she started to panic, he'd said he'd be here, she thought as her eyes searched her room. Noting his flannel shirt lying on the end of her bed and his boots on the floor, her nerves settled. Reaching for his flannel, she ran her fingers over the soft, warn fabric and pulled it to her then slipped her arms inside wondering where he could be. She climbed from the bed as she buttoned his shirt and had just gained her feet as he walked into the room.

She met his gaze, but only for the briefest moment. Suddenly, remembering just how tender he'd been with her last night, her cheeks reddened and she ducked her head slightly as she reached up with both hands and tucked her hair behind her ears.

Gunnar watched her shyness a moment as a lump settled into his chest. His eyes traveled over her from, over her tangled hair and down turned face. Dressed as she was in his much too large dark blue flannel. He wasn't a man given to sentimentality, but he wanted to remember her like this. He hadn't slept at all last night, just waited as the minutes ticked by. Trying to figure out what to say to her, how to say what had to be said. He didn't want to hurt her, but knew he would. Early this morning as he'd... As they'd been together, he'd remembered how much more than just sex this was. Even if she did still sleep with him for payment there was something there. Something more under the surface. And he wasn't the only one that felt it. He generally always found how open she was with him gratifying, he found great pleasure in it. But not this time; this time it made him feel like a monster. Shoving his thoughts and the guilt they brought with them aside, he focused on what he needed to say. As fate would have it Barney had called him a bit ago and gave him no choice but to face the inevitable. His eyes moved back up her body and met her uncertain gaze. "I have to go, Gracie."

"Ok." She said softly, with a slight nod of her head, her gaze dropped from his and her blush faded. When her gaze came back to his moments later she looked nervous.

Grace heard his words and the use of the sometimes nickname. But the light in his eyes told her there was something more going on. Her heart was pounding in trepidation when her eyes came back to his. He didn't approach her, just continued to study her. She felt the awkwardness from last night settle into the room as she held his gaze. He didn't say anything at all, his gaze left her moving to where his boots sat by her bed. After another moment he walked toward them, he didn't look at her as he sat down and reached for them.

Suddenly afraid of what, she wasn't certain she climbed onto the bed, placing herself in the middle and crossed her legs Indian style, then adjusted his shirt around her as she waited for something. Her eyes traveled down the length of his broad, heavily muscled back clad in a white thermal, watching the way his muscle rippled under the material as he went about dressing his feet. A lump formed in her throat as she began to understand what was happening. No, was all her mind could say. After he finished tying his shoes he just sat there not moving for several seconds, then he stood and turned toward her.

Grace didn't meet his gaze, she didn't want to look at him and see what she already knew she'd find. So instead she said, "I should give you your shirt then?"

"Keep it" was his reply, when it came.

Neither said a word for another a bit, Grace still wouldn't look at him, but she was aware his gaze was on her. Unable to help herself, she asked, "when will I see you again?"

Gunnar watched her feeling worse by the moment as hard as he tried he could say what he needed to. He couldn't seem to say 'I'm not coming back,' the words wouldn't come out. The words he did say should have been harder to get out, "you need to find someone Gracie."

Her gaze shot to his in surprise as her chest tightened painfully, but she quickly withdrew her gaze and hid her face, letting her hair hide her from his view as the tears she'd been fighting began to fall. "Oh," was her only reply as she waited for him to move.

Gunnar took one step toward her then stopped. It was done, he reminded himself, he had to go so he turned and walked out of her room, out of her house and out of her life.

* * *

**In retrospect maybe I should add that the story is NOT OVER! Sorry!**


End file.
